***
Dean wrote down another entry, then closed the cover to the journal he was currently working on. He walked over to the shelves Miguel had built for him, and placed the journal in its proper position on the second shelf. Journals, seventy two of them, perched as monuments of all the experimental medicinal therapies Dean had worked on. Retrieving another, Dean opened it, searched out a page, and began to read. As he blindly made his way back to his seat, he heard the creaking of the opening door. He looked up from his pages, it was Ellen. She smiled broadly as she waltzed in. A vision of happiness. A vision of Ellen seldom seen.
“El?” Dean sat at his work space, still reading as he did so. “You were gone awhile. Everything O.K.?”
“Everything is great.” Ellen leaned on the counter to face him. “I have a surprise for you.”
Dean was fearful of what that could be. Ellen was happy, so the chances of it being something bad were outstanding. “How was the survivor run?”
“It was great.”
There was that word again, Dean thought. Great? Ellen describing something as great was like a Catholic denouncing the Pope, it just didn’t happen. Afraid to ask what was making Ellen so happy, Dean looked up then back to his work.
“Dean? I said I have a surprise.”
“All right.” Dean shut the journal. “Apprehensively . . . I’ll bite.”
Ellen unzipped her black pouch, looked inside, pulled out a tube, and held it up to Dean between her forefinger and thumb with a wide grin.
Dean folded his hands as he looked at the tube. “Wow. Blood. Thanks, El.”
“No. Look at the label.” She placed the tube under his nose.
Dean was startled by the sudden appearance of a tube of blood. He adjusted his glasses, glanced quickly then returned to his reading. “El, you know I can’t read your handwriting. Especially when you write on non-flat surfaces. What does it say?”
“Robbie Slagel.”
Dean stopped reading, jumped up and grabbed the tube. “Holy shit. Another Slagel lived?” He returned to his shelves and grabbed from the bottom, the biggest journal of them all. This three inch journal wasn’t of medicine, this was his research on the virus and the survivors. “You know, I thought it was probable. But in no way did I believe this was possible.” Dean waved the tube around as he carried the book back to his work space and excitedly turned to the section marked ‘Slagel Family’. “I want to get started on this right away. I may be late, but I’ll be home in time for you to get to class.”
“O.K.” Ellen pushed the black pouch to him. “Here’s the other blood.” Ellen waited for a response. “Dean?” Nothing. “Dean.”
So engrossed in his reading, Dean paid no attention.
Shrugging and giving up, Ellen turned, lifting her hands as she walked out. “All right. Bye.”
Dean lifted his eyes from his work. Ellen was gone. He looked baffled over her sudden exit and rudeness in not saying anything when she left. Figuring she was just overwhelmed like he was with Robbie, Dean returned to his reading forgetting about the other things he desperately needed to work on.
***
Through the single black door, the only entrance to the huge rectangular building built on the edge of the living sections, Joe brought Robbie. Containment.
“Looks like an army recruitment center.” Robbie spoke as he walked into the entrance room. One desk sat there greeting them. One man, with a gun, sat behind the desk.
The man behind the desk stood up when Joe walked in. “Mr. Slagel.”
“Hi Greg. Robbie this is Greg, he mans this place during the day, another man named Doug is here at night. Greg, I would like you to meet Robbie, my son.”
Greg exhaled and smiled. “Rumors reached us fast about you. Robbie, welcome.” Greg usually did not shake hands. Most survivors weren’t around that long. But Robbie stood before him, he was a Slagel. He’d be around forever. Greg proudly shook his hand.
“Greg here was on our first survival run.” Joe explained to Robbie about the bulky, balding man behind the desk. “He was the first to test, and successfully make it through the entire processing. We could have used him elsewhere, but Frank snatched him up and put him in security. He does good.” He placed his hand on Greg’s shoulder. “We’re happy to have him. Greg, I’ll take Robbie in for the walk through. Could you buzz us please?”
Greg reached under his desk. A soft buzzing unlocked the door directly behind him.
Joe opened the door, let Robbie through first, then followed. “This is the main hallway. This first door here . . . ” Joe pointed to his right. “This is the women’s quarters. And here . . .” He indicated to the door across the hall on the left, Joe took him inside. “Men’s quarters.” Bunks lined up neatly on both sides of the walls, a foot locker at the foot of each bunk, and a dresser to the right. Joe led Robbie to the bunk at the end, a sleeping bag and back pack lay on top. It was Robbie’s stuff. “This is yours.” Joe laid his hands on Robbie’s gear. “But once you are out of here, and move on to working skills, you get a place in the community to live. We’ll issue you anything you do not have. We have it all. The only uniforms we have here are in security.”
“Do you think that’s where I’ll go?” Robbie sat on his bunk, shoving his stuff to the side.
“Don’t know. You have a lot of skills we can use. ” Joe began to walk. “Come, let’s finish the tour.”
Robbie stood and quietly followed him, like a prisoner following the warden.
Joe led him back into the hallway, explaining procedures and rules as they moved down the hall. He slowed down when they nearly reached the end. He pointed to an open office door. “This room is Ellen’s office. Not very big. But neither is Ellen.” Joe laughed. “Ellen is here every single day. She monitors and works closely with everyone. Very vital in the determination on whether you leave here or not.” He shut her office door and moved onward.
“I thought Ellen was a nurse?”
“She is.”
“Why doesn’t she work at the clinic then?”
“Well, we try to keep Ellen as far away from sick people as we possibly can. She’s not what you would call a very compassionate person. She does work in the mornings at the clinic. Clinical stuff.”
Robbie was a little surprised. “El? Not compassionate? El’s great.”
Joe stopped at the last door. The door that marked the end of the hallway. “Ellen just turned cold after the plague. When her children died. She died. And she never fully came back.” Joe opened the door. “This is the skills area.”
Robbie stepped into the large room, people were off in different sections doing different things. He spotted Paul, who was playing cards with a little boy, he waved. “Looks more like a rec room.”
“Yeah it is. But we call it the skills room because here is where we review your social skills. We also hold the social skills class four or five times a week in here.”
“Social skills?” Robbie laughed. “You teach people social skills. Why? Why not just let the survivors live among you, and if they screw up, then get rid of them.”
“No way. I protect my people. I can’t take a single chance on anyone getting hurt. Violent tendencies tend to turn up in here, trust me. This is where we weed the majority out.”
It was a prison in so many ways. Folding his arms close to his body, Robbie felt out of place. A coldness seeped to him from the inside of his body. He eyed the room and searched out for an empty chair off to the side. Once his father left, that would be where he went. To sit there. Alone. The way he often preferred.
“Don’t get too used to this place.” Joe told him.
“Why’s that?”
“You won’t be here long. You’re different than the others. You’ll be out real soon.”
“However long it takes.”
“Good boy.” Joe put his arm around him. “It’s good to have you with me. I need you here.”
Robbie nodded slowly and smiled politely. It really didn
’t feel good to be there, but he couldn’t tell that to his father. It did, however, feel good to be with his family. That was all that mattered. That’s all he wanted. He had gotten what he searched for.
CHAPTER SIX
Andrea Winters paced around her small office at the clinic. Her hands in her lab coat, her shoulders rigid. A stunned look set on her face, she was speechless. She walked a few steps, stopped to look at Dean who was seated in her office, opened her mouth, and nothing would come out.
“Andrea?” Dean spoke. “You’re not saying much.”
Andrea’s mouth opened. “Wow.” She went to her desk and sat down across from Dean. “Wow.”
“Amazing isn’t it?”
“Joe’s son. Alive?” She folded her hands on her desk top.
“Yep. Unbelievable.” Dean sat back.
“What about his other two, could they be?”
“Scientifically, I’d say no. That would be way too obscure. But so are the Slagels.” Dean paused to chuckle. “And this really adds another notch of proof in my theory belt that the immunity gene is male gender hereditary.”
Andrea rubbed her hand across her face. “I bet all of them are ecstatic. Joe, Frank, Ellen.”
“You know it. I haven’t spoken to them. But I’ll bet they’ll be hanging around containment a lot more now.”
“No.” Andrea looked at him as if he were weird for saying that. “Tell me Joe did not put his son in containment.”
“He did.”
Andrea closed her eyes with a cringe. All she could picture was Joe’s screaming, long lost son, banging on the containment door after being shoved and locked in. “Sweet Jesus, that man is odd.”
Dean stood from his chair. “He’s Joe. Mr. Rules. And . . . I have to be going. I want to finish up so Ellen isn’t late for her class tonight.” Dean walked to the door.
“Dean.” Andrea called as she rose and moved his way. “How is working with Ellen after the break?”
Dean turned and faced her. “Great.”
Andrea looked horrified. “Great?”
Waving a finger in front of her face, Dean smiled. “No. Don’t you worry. I am fully cautious. Despite what people think, I don’t run around with blinders on . . . well, all the time. Not this time. Things are going at a good, slow pace, in the right direction, and my eyes are fully open.”
“What about Frank?” Andrea asked the inevitable question.
“Frank . . . Frank is a problem. I know. And I know I tried to pretend he wasn’t. If I would have faced it last year head on, maybe I wouldn’t have looked like such the fool. Maybe we wouldn’t have had that distance between me and El for so long. But now . . . she’s back. In the lab and . . .” Dean drew up a quirky grin. “Let’s just say, things are transpiring that haven’t transpired in way too long. I have to go.” He laid his hand on Andrea’s arm. “Thanks for your concern.” Dean winked as he stepped back.
Andrea reached for Dean’s hand, but he slid it from her and moved away too fast. She considered herself a God-fearing, Christian woman with a strong faith. But at that moment, Andrea wished she had the belief Dean did. She had to wonder with a sense of foreboding if Ellen was really making her choice and moving back toward Dean, or if Ellen had become a great magician. Performing illusions of grandeur and hiding her dilemma a whole lot better.
***
Henry heard the news. Robbie Slagel was alive and well. He had amnesia though, didn’t recognize his family. Of course, Henry found that part of the story hard to believe. News spread fast through the community, never the same news in the last ears to hear it, as it was when it started. But the smart ones in the community had learned to sift through it and find the truth. The truth: Robbie was alive. Henry didn’t know Robbie, nor had he heard much about him. But he was excited none-the-less. The ‘originals’ of the community were like a family. And if Frank’s brother had come home, then so did Henry’s.
Henry headed off to containment to meet Robbie. He excitedly left his training session with Michelle. He found it extremely difficult assuring Michelle that the chances of Robbie being another Frank were slim to none. Certainly God wouldn’t create two dense, mean, and sometimes-ruthless Slagel children. Henry hoped.
Henry checked for Joe at the receiving center, he wasn’t there. It was the beginning of the month, Joe was probably down at storage doing inventory, a task he trusted only to himself and George.
Cheerful, he entered containment and checked in with Greg. What was Robbie like? Henry pictured him in his mind. Robbie wouldn’t be as bulky as Frank, he couldn’t be, he had been outside for five years. He also didn’t expect Robbie to look anything like Frank. That theory was based on the names only. The name Frank was rough and hard. When growing up, it was a name you could threaten the big bully with. ‘Hey, if you don’t leave me alone, I’ll get Frank to kick your ass.’ However, trying to say the same sentence using the name Robbie just didn’t have the same effect. So to Henry, Robbie was quieter, milder, more laid back. Henry was almost right on the nose with his self thought description.
He made his way to the end of the containment hall and spotted Ellen sitting on the floor playing with a little boy. “El! Hey!” He called across the room, holding his hand high.
Ellen looked up and waved. The boy she was playing with scooted behind her back, seemingly afraid of Henry. “Don’t be frightened,” she spoke to the ten year old. “It’s only Mr. Henry. He won’t hurt you. Remember him?”
The little boy spoke no words, he stayed behind Ellen, even as she rose to her feet to speak with her visitor.
“Hi, Henry. How come you’re here?”
“You can’t guess?” Henry looked around the room. He didn’t spot any survivors he didn’t recognize. With the exception of the new black man, and with reasonable deduction Henry knew he wasn’t Robbie. “Where is he?”
“He’s sleeping. Passed out as soon as he ate. Like the food was drugged or something.”
“The Thanksgiving Day syndrome.”
“The what?” Ellen asked.
“Thanksgiving Day syndrome.” Henry explained. “Remember Thanksgiving? Remember how much you would eat and how tired you would get? They have the same thing. They barely ate out there. So when they come here, we give them a full meal, sending their digestive systems into overkill. That in turn wears them down. I would expect that.”
Ellen giggled. “That was a good one.”
“Thanks.” Henry placed his hands in his pockets. “Well, I guess I’ll get lots of time to meet Robbie. Mind if I stop by tonight for class?”
“No, not at all. Mind if I drag you to help? It’s an interactive one.” Ellen spoke enthused.
“Sure. You know me. Mr. Helpful. I’ll see you then.” A little disappointed that he didn’t get to meet Robbie as he planned, Henry left the skills room. He walked down the quiet hall and toward the main door. But something was different. As he passed the men’s quarters he saw through the ajar door, a man sitting on his bunk. The only one in there and it had to be Robbie. Henry smiled and got a twinge of nervousness as if he were getting ready to meet some big celebrity. He cleared his throat trying to get the attention of the stranger who kept his back to him. “Excuse me. Robbie?” Henry’s words sounded off pleasantness.
Robbie turned his head slowly and looked over his shoulder.
“Hi.” Henry lifted his hand in a wave. Then just when he went to take a step in, Robbie stood up, walked over to the door where Henry stood, and closed it on him.
***
Frank watched her. Standing in the archway of the skills room leaning on it, his arm resting above him, his chin on his wrist as his fingers fiddled with his goatee. He watched her. A gaze in his eye, a far off gaze, almost as if he was remembering the past rather than watching the present. Ellen laid on her stomach in the center of the floor, two children next to her watching intently as she read them some huge book. Her hair dangled over her hand which propped up her head. She smiled at the children, a real
smile and that in turn, made Frank smile. For all the times she had made him angry through the years he had known her, Frank couldn’t recall a time when she didn’t make him feel better. No matter what the circumstances.
He felt a hand on his back. It startled him but not enough to completely distract him. Barely taking his eyes off of Ellen, Frank looked to see who was next to him. “Dad.”
Joe watched Frank staring out. “Isn’t this about the time you charge in and scare the hell out of the survivors?”
“Not today.”
“Not today?” Joe gave a quick twitch of his head n confusion and again saw Frank’s stare on Ellen. “Frank? What’s going on? Everything O.K.?”
“Yeah.” Frank nodded slowly. “I just . . . Dad? Did you ever, because it made you feel good, just want to stare at someone you care about?”
“No.” Joe answered, gave a pat to Frank and stepped into the skills room. He stopped and looked back. Frank’s demeanor and stare hadn’t changed. He shook his head at the unusual ‘sap’ comment that came from his son and approached Ellen. He kept his voice low so as not to frighten the children with her. “How’s it going?”
“Oh, hey, Joe. Good.” Ellen looked up to him. “We’re just looking at pictures.” She lifted herself from the floor with a grunt. As she did she saw Frank through the corner of her eye. “What’s up with him? Is he mad or something? Shouldn’t he be charging in here about now?”
“He says . . . not today.” Joe didn’t turn around to look at Frank.
“Is he sick?”
“That’s pretty much an open ended question, wouldn’t you say?”
Ellen laughed. “Are you looking for Robbie?”
“Yes and no. See Robbie. See if you need help.” Joe took in the peacefulness of the room. The calm quiet that screamed serenity. “But, it looks like all is under control. I’m gonna use your office, if you don’t mind. Catch up on paperwork before our class tonight.”
The Big Ten: The First Ten Books of the Beginnings Series Page 46
